Losing Control
by Gillianandersonwannabe
Summary: Alex Cabot is losing control. Post ep for Guilt. T for drinking. Alex/John friendship
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N_: This is actually my first non X-Files fanfic. I just felt the need to write Alex Cabot because she is super awesome and I'm just really in love with her. Like, really in love. This takes place after the episode Guilt which I just watched today. Broke. My. Heart. This is a post ep, the night after she receives her punishment.**

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After her seventh gulp of vodka she began to cry. And gulps they were because it was gulps Alex needed. Neither the tears nor the alcohol made her feel any better though. They just made her angry. She violently wiped away her tears, muttering slurred obscenities.

After her ninth gulp her skin began to crawl. She knew it was all in her head, but it made her feel insane. She could feel it crawling all over her arms, her legs, her face and she wanted to scream. The guilt was all over her.

One more gulp was all it took to get her into the shower. Still half clothed, without even bothering to shut the shower door she turned the water on as hot as it could go.

It wasn't hot enough.

She twisted and yanked at the knob with all her might, willing the water to sear away her sins, but all in vain. Nothing could wash them away. She let out a cry of frustration at herself and banged her palms against the wall.

She could feel herself shaking violently. She knew she needed to calm down. She needed to regain control of the situation. Alex Cabot did not lose control. Not over the court room, not over her cases, and certainly not over herself.

She turned off the shower.

Stepped out onto the cold bathroom tile.

And looked in the mirror.

'Guilty', her mind whispered to her. She took a ragged breath.

'You're not sorry', her mind said. A little louder this time. Still shaking she assessed her raw and tender skin.

"What was I suppose to do?" She asked herself out loud. She contorted her face in an effort not to cry.

'You're all alone', her mind began to scream at her. 'You're all alone because you alienated the closest people you have to being friends.'

Another ragged breath.

'You're pathetic.'

A clenched fist.

'And there's nothing you can do to assuage your guilt.'

She snapped.

Her ears registered a scream. She yanked the vodka bottle off of the floor and threw it at the mirror and her own horrid reflection.

All three shattered.

The sound seemed to deafen her, silencing her traitorous mind. That is, until someone with warm hands and a frantic voice broke through the fog.

"Alex!"

Over and over again, growing less and less muffled with each repetition. She tried to look and see who was in her apartment but her eyes refused to focus. She felt herself being pulled into the living room and sat on the couch. One last yell and everything snapped into focus.

"Alexandra!"

It was John Munch.

She blinked. "What are you... Why- how did you-" she choked on her own tongue.

"I just came by to make sure you were okay. You know. With all that's been going on", he said. His voice was filled with concern. "I heard the scream and the crash so I kind of kicked down your door. Alex", he hesitated. He didn't want to ask if she was okay. It was painfully clear that she was not.

He looked at her closely. She was wearing a white camisole and black spandex, both soaked. Her hair, usually always immaculately put together was a matted mess. Her skin was blotchy, red and irritated. She smelled like vodka.

"I'm really terribly sorry John", she began in a shaky voice.

"Alex-"

"I'm fine John."

He snorted incredulously.

"Really. I am. So I'm going to have to ask you to-"

He reached out to smooth her hair down. He tucked a lock behind her ear.

"Leave", she finished in the smallest of whispers.

"Talk to me", he said quietly, his hand now gently caressing her face.

She shook her head and before she could repeat herself she began to sob. She made horrible ugly noises. Her whole body shook with the force of her emotions. All the while she stayed wrapped in John's arms.

He wanted more than anything to say something to her, but her knew sometimes words just aren't enough. So he just held her.

When her sobs had finally quieted to soft hiccups he whispered into her hair, "You need to sleep".

She nodded in agreement, too tired to protest. She let herself be led into her bedroom. Let John tuck her into bed, feeling like a child again. Her breathing was returning to normal.

"John", she murmured. "I'm so sorry."

He pursed his lips and considered her for a moment.

"Will you", she hesitated, hating the way she sounded. "Could you please stay?" She whispered.

"Of course", he answered, as if he had had plans to do otherwise. With that he turned off her lamp and made his way back into her living room. Right as he shut her bedroom door though, he could've sworn he heard a muffled thank you.

He paused. Then, ever so softly, clicked the door shut.

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**_A/N_: I really enjoyed this episode because we got to see a different side of cool, calm, and collected Alex Cabot. Instead we saw an Alex who, as she became more and more desperate, slowly lost control. That loss of control is what I wanted to continue to portray in this, so I hope I've done her justice. Also I think Munch is just a big sweetheart.**

**Will give soul for reviews.**


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: _I didn't actually plan on making a second part to this, but I still had a lot of unresolved feelings about this episode. When it became clear that the show was not going to resolve them I decided this simply had to be done, because ****based upon Alex's past characterization and her actions in this episode there was more going on than what was canon. ** Here's hoping that I did my favorite character justice! Even if you didn't like it, I would love a review! They keep me writing. And living.

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When she woke all she could feel was a pounding in her head. She was almost afraid to open her eyes. Alex knew she had to get up and assess the damage though. So after a little deliberation she let her eyelids flutter open.

It was still dark. Her clock read 4:13 AM. She had started drinking around nine that night maybe? So how long had she been asleep then? She tried to remember but her first mistake had been skipping dinner. Well, her first mistake that evening.

But remembering hurt; she just wanted to forget. She wanted to sleep, but she knew that she would never drift off again with a headache like the one she had. She needed aspirin, so she went to the bathroom to get some. Another mistake.

Not wanting to disturb her, John hadn't cleaned up from the vodka bottle and the mirror. Now Alex had a foot full of broken glass.

"Goddamn it", she neglected to curse quietly. John was a light sleeper. He was there all too quickly it seemed to Alex.

She tried to hobble back to her bed to sit down. He helped her. "Here, give me your foot."

"John it's really nothing", she protested. He sat on the floor and grabbed her foot anyway. "It's fine- Ouch!" He had picked out a piece that had gone too deep.

"Sorry. Do you have a first aid kit?" He asked.

She nodded. "Under the sink."

He went and got his shoes from beside her couch before he went into her bathroom.

Then she felt embarrassed, but for the most ridiculous reason. Not because hours earlier she had made a drunken fool out of herself. Not because the bureau chief had seen through her like there was nothing to it. But because she remembered her first aid kit was situated under a box of tampons. She put her head in her hands. She needed to get a grip.

He returned with the first aid kit, a glass of water, and aspirin. She must've given him a look because he shrugged and said she could probably use it.

She sighed. "Thank you."

"No problem. Now let me see your foot."

She reluctantly stuck it out.

She took her aspirin and he patched her foot up all in a silence that felt strangely comfortable. When he finished he looked up at her and stared into her eyes. She gazed back.

"So I guess no heels for a while then?" He said halfheartedly. She cracked a small smile. "Alex can I ask you something?" He asked, serious again.

"Yes."

"You don't have to-"

She waited.

"Just don't feel like you have to answer, I mean-"

"John, what is it?" She pressed him.

"Why this case?"

She pursed her lips and found a corner of her bed to look at. "I dont, I don't really-"

"That's ok, sorry for asking", the care in his voice struck a chord with her. She had to tell him. She_ had_ to. "I'll just leave now if you're okay?" He stood up and turned away.

"Wait!"

He stopped.

She screwed up all of her courage. "You might want to pull up a chair." Her voice cracked ever so slightly.

He picked up a chair that sat vacant in the corner of her room and set it beside her bed, facing Alex.

"I've never uh, told this story before, but uh, I suppose it's time." She looked over at him, but flicked her eyes down again, knowing she could never maintain eye contact through this story.

"I was 11. My older brother, James, was 15", she began.

"He was my best friend. I thought he was so cool. He wasn't like my friends' older siblings. He never got embarrassed of me and he never grumbled and groaned when he has plans with his friends and had to watch me. He let me hang out with him and his friends. If they weren't nice to me he told them to cut it out. Sometimes he even took my friends and I out to the movies.

"We told each other everything. When I told him about the boy who tried to kiss me on the playground he demanded I pull out a year book to show him a picture. He told me about all the parties he went to, all the people he met, and all the teachers to watch out for."

She swallowed.

"One day he came home really late from a party he had snuck out to. I had somehow managed to wait up for him. He told me to go to sleep, but I refused to until he told me at least one thing that happened, so, he did.

"He told me about this college guy he met there. I still remember his name. Will Bradford. James said they hung out the whole party. He said he was ditching school tomorrow to go and hang out with him and his friends. He sounded so cool the way he described him. Naturally I was ecstatic for him. I loved to see him happy."

Her eyes started to water up again. John reached out and took her hand. She snuck a glance down and found him gazing at her quietly. So she continued.

"The next day I came home from school and found him alone in his room crying. I asked him what was wrong, but he refused to tell me. When I pressed him he raised his voice at me. When I insisted further he screamed at me to get out.

"I was shocked. James and I had fought before, he'd even disciplined me before, but he'd never yelled at me.

"After that everything changed with him. James no longer wanted to talk to me. He never let me hang out with him and his friends anymore. In fact, he stopped having friends over at all."

Her tears began to fall now.

"I tried telling my parents, but they dismissed my concerns. Told me he was just being a teenager and that I was lucky he had been so nice to me for so long.

"Finally, one night, I confronted him. I told him I'd tell mom all the times he snuck out and ditched school if he didn't say what happened to him that day. We both knew I was bluffing, but I think he really wanted to tell someone."

The tears were falling faster now. She used her blanket to wipe them away.

"He told me that he met up with Will's friends and that they said they were going to meet up with some girls. They said they had the perfect girl for him. He said he felt awesome, hanging out with college guys, going to go meet a college girl.

"He said they took a short cut through an alley and he said they, uh, he said they jumped him. He said they beat him up, but I never saw any bruises on him. When I told him so he started to cry. He said they never beat him up really, but that they held him down and did some uh, some bad stuff to him. I didn't understand and he didn't want to elaborate.

"I told him that we had to tell mom and dad. That they would go to the police and they would arrest Will and his friends for what they did. I was so angry. I felt that they had taken James away from me, and I wanted revenge.

"He was adamant that I keep it a secret though. It scared me how agitated he became. He told me that if I ever told anyone, even mom or dad, he would never forgive me."

She paused to wipe her face clean again. The words were tumbling out now.

"I was young. I just wanted my older brother back. I thought that maybe, because he told me, things would go back to normal."

She choked.

"They didn't?" John asked her.

She shook her head. "If anything they got worse. Sometimes, during the weekend, James refused to leave his room all day. He was breaking my heart.

"February 27th. I came into his room after banging on his door and begging him to come out for several minutes. I needed help on my math homework. I found him passed out on the floor convulsing.

"My parents weren't home. I, uh, I started screaming at him. I tried to hold him down to get him to stop. When he finally did I pounded on his chest to get him to wake up. Finally I called 911, but when the paramedics got there, it was too late. He was dead."

She could barely speak now through the tears. John squeezed her hand tighter.

"My big brother. My best friend. Committed suicide. Because I never told anyone he was raped.

"Alex-"

"I told my parents what happened to him. Mom was so furious she hit me. She threw me against a wall. She would've killed me if my dad hadn't stopped her.

"He was angry at me too, but he forgave me. My mother didn't. She needed someone to blame, so she chose me. It split my parents up."

Alex had stopped crying, but she was shaking.

"Did you ever try and press charges?" John asked softly.

She snorted incredulously. "We tried, but there's not much you can do without a victim and with no evidence. I offered to testify, to tell the court what James had told me, but I was told I couldn't."

Her voice dropped down to a whisper. "Just like I had to tell Ms. Cavanaugh."

"Alex, you can't still blame yourself for this."

"I thought I didn't!" she said, almost angrily. "I thought I had told myself that it wasn't my fault enough times that I believed it, but when I walked into that hospital. When I saw Ms. Cavanaugh, and she attacked me, I wasn't there anymore. I wasn't ADA Alex Cabot. I was 11 year old Alexandra. I was helpless, afraid, and utterly alone.

"I promised myself I wouldn't let him get away with this. I told myself it was for Sam. I told myself it was for future victims. It wasn't."

She finally found the courage to look him in the eye. "It was for me. I wasn't trying to prove Roy Barnett was guilty, and I wasn't trying to prove Will Bradford and his friends were guilty. I wasn't even trying to bring Sam back."

She took a deep breath. "I was trying to prove to Ms. Cavanaugh, to my mother, and to myself that_ I_ am not guilty." She looked away again. "But the thing I didn't count on was... Well I'm not quite sure what I expected, but I suppose I had thought Barnett being found guilty would make me innocent."

With that, she broke down into ugly sobs for a second time. John sat on the bed next to her and held her.

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**_A/N: _I am seriously obsessed with this episode. I'm actually thinking about writing a Meta concerning it. Upon more and more viewings I've noticed lots and lots of inferences that can be made about Alex's character and her past, this being only one of the many.**

**Don't forget to review please please please please. I want to know what everyone thinks!**


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